No More Yielding Than a Dream
by Spookykat
Summary: Kurt is teetering between two realities.  Klaine, s3Canon pairings apply.  Minor Season 3 spoilers.  Rated T for language.
1. Schism

**Author's Notes: This story is loosely based on the season 6 _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ episode "_Normal Again_." No, nobody's a demon or a vampire in this fic, but the plot and premise are similar, but sans demons or vampires, with a few twists of my own.**

**Contains minor s3 spoilers, but nothing major.**

**As always, thanks go out to the lovely SwingGirlAtHeart, Bone_Dry, and AdamPascalFan for their input and beta-ing!**

* * *

><p>If we shadows have offended,<p>

Think but this and all is mended,

That you have but slumber'd here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream.

(Puck's-not THAT Puck!-speech from Shakespeare's _MidsummerNight's Dream_)

* * *

><p>Kurt glanced at the clock. It had been an hour since his alarm went off, and normally he'd be putting the final touches on the look of the day and putting his homework in his bag, but somehow when he sat on his bed to plan the ensemble he was going to wear, everything felt heavy and moving suddenly became a huge effort. His throat was scratchy, and when he tried to get up, a wave of dizziness crashed over him, so he was compelled to sit back down. That was an hour ago, and Kurt knew that he needed to be out the door in five minutes if he was going to be on time for homeroom, but for some reason, moving was starting to become impossible.<p>

It wasn't that Kurt was feeling particularly _bad_ exactly, but if he had the option of staying home that day, he'd take it. He'd seen _Ferris Beuller's Day Off_ enough times that he could fake an illness with the best of them, but it occurred to him that for maybe the first time ever, he actually didn't _want_ to miss. He'd set out to make his senior year amazing, and so far, it was. One Blaine Anderson wasn't the entire reason for that, but he was certainly a major part of it.

Although things were infinitely better for him at school, especially with Blaine there, they weren't perfect. He and Mercedes hadn't exactly been talking since she left New Directions. Rachel was still hell-bent on beating him for the solos for Sectionals as well as the Presidency, so she wasn't exactly speaking to him, either. Between Booty Camp and _West Side Story _rehearsal, he hadn't actually had much quality time for Blaine and barely had time to breathe. But on the bright side, since Karofsky had stopped the bullying, the rest of the jocks actually laid off. If a member of New Directions wasn't in a class with him, he was still hard-pressed to find a partner during group or pair assignments, and he still got comments under-breath (and sometimes not so under-breath) from students in the hall from time to time, but if those were the least of his complaints, he could live with that.

"Come on, Kurt!" Carole's voice called from downstairs. "You're gonna be late if you don't get a move on!"

"Just a minute!" Kurt tried to holler back, but the only sound that would come out of his throat was barely a croak.

"Kurt?" Carole called out. Kurt heard the sound of footsteps.

He threw on a t-shirt and a sweater as fast as he could despite the heaviness in his limbs and met her at the stairs.

"Finn's ready when you are. There's a bagel left on the counter if you…oh honey…" she paused to touch his forehead. "You don't look so good. You're not burning up…but still, I don't think it would be a bad idea if you stayed home today. Should I call your father and see what he says?"

Kurt shook his head. "I'll be fine," he croaked out. "Just a cold or something. I think it's going around."

"We've had more than a couple of people admitted into the hospital for this bug, Kurt. You wanna be careful with this thing. Sure you don't wanna nip it in the bud and get some rest?"

"Can't," Kurt said, shaking his head. Then he stopped because it made him dizzy again. "Presentation in French today and today's the day of the duet competition and I'm not about to let Blaine down."

"Kurt you can barely talk and you think you'll be doing Blaine favors by singing today? You have an amazing voice when you are well, but right now?" She shook her head. "Can't you do it another day?"

"We're down by half and there aren't as many people to compete so the competition time is cut short. And besides, if I eat enough honey and add a wedge of lemon with my green tea, it should help get my voice back to normal by the afternoon."

"Will you at least take some Vitamin C and Zinc and promise me you'll drink plenty of fluids?" Kurt nodded, but he world was swimming. "And if you need me to sign you out, I'm off today so don't hesitate to call, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt said and smiled. He didn't nod.

* * *

><p>Kurt tried his best to soldier through the day. He didn't really have much of a choice in the matter, but by the time Glee rehearsal rolled around, though, it was a losing battle.<p>

"Kurt," Blaine asked, shooting him a worried glance. "Are you sure you're okay? You look awful." It was what had to be the sixth variation of that question for as many times.

"Thank you _so _much for your overwhelming vote of confidence before a performance, Blaine," Kurt snapped. "Sorry…" Kurt grumbled with a sigh as he slumped in his chair, grateful to not have to be on his feet. "It's just a cold. I'll be fine."

"Look, we can just tell Mr. Schuester we're out if you…" Whatever Blaine was about to say was cut off by Rachel bursting through the doors.

"Everyone, just so you know," Rachel announced. "Finn and I threw the duets competition last year so Sam and Quinn could win. Blaine, I have no intention of extending you the same courtesy. You all should just quit now and save yourselves the humiliation."

"Fuck you, Rachel?" Kurt muttered.

After enduring Rachel and Finn's rousing rendition of _Suddenly Seymour _from _Little Shop of Horrors_, Kurt wished he had a tranquilizer gun to shoot at Rachel to make her stop. Quinn and Puck's rendition of Lady Antebellum's _Just a Kiss_ (which came off as more angry than sexy due to the fact that Puck was still angry with Quinn for the way she was handling the Beth situation), it was his and Blaine's turn for Maroon 5's _Moves Like Jagger_.

Kurt's heart was racing as it always did during a performance, but he couldn't quite stop his legs from shaking. The choreography he'd worked out with Blaine required a lot of turns, which he was severely regretting by the time they'd gone through the chorus just once, and when they got to the second verse, it was all he could do to make his mouth and legs move at the same time.

When it was time to sing his line at the bridge, the world began to grow dark and everything sounded like it was under water.

He didn't finish the rest of the verse.

He remembered falling. He vaguely registered hearing his name being shouted and Schue yelling for someone to call 9-1-1.

Then there was nothing.

* * *

><p>"Oh good, he's coming to," a familiar voice said. Sue. Sue? That made no sense at all. 'Why would Coach Sylvester be…'<p>

"Kurt?"' his dad's voice came from somewhere close by. "Come on buddy, come back to us."

His eyelids felt heavy and everything still sounded like it was underwater. The sounds were odd and the smells were unfamiliar, and he tried to bring his hands up to let his dad know he was listening, but his wrists were strapped being held down by something.

The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was that the clothes he was wearing that morning were gone. Instead he was in a plain white cotton atrocity and if the outfit wasn't nightmarish enough, Coach Sylvester was flashing a tiny little flash light in his eyes.

"Dad? Why is Coach Sylvester doing that?"

"She's just checking you out, Kurt," his dad said.

"Blaine and I were doing that routine, and I just…fell."

He managed to open his eyes, and he wondered for a second if he was still out of it and this was all some cruel hallucination.

"Mom?"

"He knows who I am!" she breathed.

"Do you know where you are, Kurt?" Coach Sylvester asked him. To be more accurate, the person asking the question _looked_ like Coach Sylvester, _sounded _like her, but that's as far as the similarities went.

"Am I in the hospital? I had a cold…flu…something today and just lost my balance."

His parents exchanged a worried glance at his statement.

His parents. _Parents_. Both of them. He tried to wrap his brain around that, but then reminded himself that it was probably all some kind of dream. He looked down again at the clothes he was wearing.

'Try nightmare,' he thought ruefully as Coach Sylvester began to move her finger from side to side.

"Ten points for Gryffindor, kid. You're in the hospital."

"So I'm better now. I'm free to go, right?"

"This is certainly progress, Kurt, but I'm afraid with a prolonged illness like yours, this is the best place for you right now."

"Illness?"

Coach Sylvester exchanged a glance with his parents.

"Coach Sylvester, what the fuck is going on."

"I'm not Coach Sylvester," she answered in a tone that sounded like she was talking to a small child or a crazy person. I'm Doctor Sylvester. You're in New Directions Mental Facility."

"I'm crazy?"

"As a mental professional, I'm not supposed to use that word, but if the shoe fits…" She shrugged and put her light back in her pocket. "Let me be the first to welcome you back to The Land of the Lucid."


	2. Torn

"Dad, I want another doctor," Kurt announced as they led him back to his room. "You _do_ remember how crazy she is, don't you?"

"She's the best in her field, kiddo. She also _knows_you, and she's already helped you this far. I don't think it's such a good idea to change horses midstream, you know? Not when you've come so close."

"But Dad! This is the woman who throws sticks at my friends and I just because she can! She instructed the Cheerios to burn the purple pianos after I planned her sister's funeral!"

"Kurt, how many times do we have to go through this?" his mother interjected. "Cheerios aren't cheerleaders. It's a breakfast cereal."

"Mom, no…I…Santana, Brittany, Quinn…"

"Since you've been here," Coach Sylvester said, "you've somehow reassigned different labels to the other patients here. It's part of your illness."

"I'm not sick! There's nothing wrong with me!"

"Of course there's nothing wrong with you, Kurt," his father said. "You're just a little…confused."

"I'm not confused!" He was shouting now, and his voice was getting high, which he hated. "My name is Kurt Hummel. I'm 17 years old. The year is 2011. My address is 1620 East Pine Street. My phone number is 555-1013. I'm stuck here in Lima, Ohio until I graduate high school. Obama's the President unless some Tea Party idiots actually managed to be successful with Impeachment, _The__Book__of__Mormon_ swept the Tony Awards including Best New Show to nobody's surprise. I'm dating Blaine Anderson, and…"

But his mother just shook her head and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Kurt had forgotten how blue they could be. "We've been over this, Kurt," she said. "Blaine's the intern that shadows Dr. Sylvester. He's not really your boyfriend. Dr. Sylvester thinks you've built this whole world up in your head as some kind of…coping mechanism."

"Mom, in that other reality? The one I am supposed to have made up in my head? You died when I was eight. How is that supposed to help me cope?"

His dad must've waved over someone to help, because suddenly a pair of hands was on him.

"You just got yourself a time-out," a familiar voice said behind him. Kurt whipped around to see who it was.

_Karofsky._This was going from dream to nightmare fast, because his mom still being alive was wonderful, but _Karofsky_ being in the dream too? He really _did_ need a shrink after all.

"Come on, Kurt, it's just Dave," another familiar voice said.

Sam.

Okay, now it was just getting weird.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?"

"Uh, we work here," Karofsky answered. Sam ribbed him with his elbow. "How many times do I have to tell you don't reason wi-Ow!"

But Kurt wasn't listening. He started to back away, but his dad was holding him, managing to keep him grounded to the spot. "Don't let him touch me, Dad! Don't let him touch me!"

"Relax, buddy, nobody's going to hurt you here, okay?" his dad answered.

"Can I get a nurse in here?" Sam hollered.

And in a flash, the nurse arrived. Carole.

Carole was ready with the needle in hand, and none of this was making sense at all.

"Carole, you've got to help me! This is insane! I'm not crazy! I'm Kurt Hummel, 17 years old from Lima Ohio, it's 2011 …" he screamed as he felt the prick of a needle enter his arm. He wanted to fight, but found that he wasn't able to move his limbs.

And the world went black.

* * *

><p>It had been <em>hours<em>.

Blaine's cell phone battery only had a few minutes of life left, and Blaine himself was running on empty as well. Finn had gone back for the third time to see if there was any news on Kurt, and Blaine could do nothing but wait with the rest of New Directions along with the Trouble Tones (Artie called Mercedes to let her know what had happened), who were all assembled in the waiting room. All except Sugar, who had claimed to have a "hospital-o-phobia."

The waiting room was bustling and there weren't many places to sit, but Blaine couldn't sit still even if he tried. He would still be pacing back and forth if Rachel hadn't made him stand still and take a few deep breaths. "In through the nose and out through the mouth," Rachel coaxed. "Blaine, I'm sorry what I said earlier…I swear, after this is all over, Finn and I have discussed it, and we're letting you guys win."

"Because yeah, I'm sure Blaine is so worried about the competition right now," Quinn huffed.

"I knew he wasn't feeling well. I should've backed out of the competition. I should've…"

Finn put a hand on his shoulder. "Knowing him, he probably would've just sung a duet by himself like he did last year and this would've happened anyway."

Blaine's phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked the number. His mom's cell. He let it go to voicemail, but it rang again.

He started to pick it up, but then Mr. Schue tapped him on his shoulder and pointed to the 'No cell phones please' sign on the wall.

"Come get me if there's any news," he said and then left the room.

"Mom, this really isn't a good time…I'm kinda…"

There was a pause.

"No mom, listen, I'm at the hospital. Not for me…for Kurt. They don't know. Look, I've gotta…" another pause. "Did you look in all the usual places? You think dad can…? What about Cindy? I really, really need to be here right now. Look, she probably forgot her meds again. She'll be fine. The doctor said Annie's made real progress with this medication." Blaine released a defeated sigh. "I really, really don't want to leave right now. Kurt…" He sighed again and rolled his eyes. "Fine." He really, really wished he had the ability to slam down his iPhone.

He sent a text to Finn.

"**I need to take care of something. Tell me when there's any news on Kurt. I'll be back as soon as I can. I'll explain later."**

He knew time was of the essence, but he was running on pure adrenaline up until that point and all of a sudden the enormity of everything just came crashing down. He laid his head against the steering wheel and just sobbed so hard his whole body shook for a few seconds. He slammed his hand against the dash in frustration so hard he heard the plastic crack, but he didn't care. It just wasn't _fair_.

After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and collected himself, cursing the current situation.

Blaine's place was here, with Kurt. He knew that, but his sister…his sister needed him, too.

He glanced up and at that moment, saw a shooting star whiz by, despite the bright lights of the hospital parking-lot, but didn't pause to make a wish. Wishes weren't going to help him now.

* * *

><p>The first thing Kurt heard was incessant beeping. Like the machine his father was hooked up to when he had his heart attack. A heart monitor. He must be hooked up to a heart monitor.<p>

But why would there be a heart monitor in a psychiatric hospital? That made no sense at all. Something was in his nose.

He could feel rough, calloused fingers holding his hand.

"Come on, kiddo. Open your eyes," his father's voice came from somewhere close by.

This was proving to be easier said than done, and when he did, he could only open them a sliver and shut them again because it was too bright.

"There's my boy," his father said.

He bolted upright. "Don't let Karofsky touch me!"

"Woah…settle down, son. Nobody's gonna hurt you here. You're in the hospital, Kurt."

"I know...mental hospital…" Kurt managed to slur.

"No, Kurt," Carole said, exchanging a worried glance with Burt. "The _actual_hospital. You fell. You've been out for most of the day."

"Carole tells me she tried to get you to stay home, but you didn't listen."

"Big day."

"You could've passed out while driving, Kurt," Burt fussed. "You could've fallen and hit your head harder than you did. As it is, you've been out for several hours. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I just...wasn't all that sick."

"Says my kid with an oxygen tube up his nose and an IV hooked up to his arm," Burt said with a wry grin. "Hand me your call-button, I'm lettin' the nurses know you're awake."

Thirty minutes later, a doctor (Not Sue, he noted gratefully; this time, it was shorter, Hispanic man named Dr. Cruz.) was flashing a light in his eyes and asking him if he knew what his name was.

"That's what charts are for!" Kurt replied.

"Answer the damn questions, Kurt," Burt grumbled. "He's trying to help."

After more questions, and poking and prodding the doctor frowned. "I'm concerned because I've ordered every test under the sun I can think of, yet I can't find any reason why you would've lost consciousness for as long as you did. You fell and hit your head, and perhaps it was just an injury from the fall itself, but the CAT-scan we did when you were first brought in didn't present any anomalies that would provide an explanation. I'd like to keep you here overnight for observation."

"Why the IV and the heart monitor?"

"The IV is because you were dehydrated when you came in, and the heart monitor is just a precaution to see if that might be a possible cause."

"I told you to drink your fluids!" Carole scolded, and was going to say something else, but the doctor cleared his throat.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions without your parents present, if you don't mind?"

"Anything you have to say to my kid, you can say in front of me, Doc," Burt said.

"It's just standard procedure, sir. There are certain questions that Kurt might be…more comfortable answering without his parents here."

"I'm going to go outside and let Finn and everyone else know you're awake," Carole said, and left.

"We don't have any secrets," Kurt said, training his best glare on the doctor as soon as she was gone.

"You're not on drugs, are you? None of the happy dust? Wacky weed? Hard stuff?"

"Excuse me?" For a brief moment, Kurt was actually wishing Sue was his doctor again, because of the two of them, at that moment, she appeared to be the saner choice.

"Look, I know what I did when _I_ was your age, and I'm just saying…it would be a viable explanation."

"What! No!" Burt gave him a questioning look. "Dad! No! I hate taking Nyquil because of the things it does to my head! Do you really think I'm going to take the harder stuff? You can test me for it if you want, but it'll come up negative."

"I ask because there are drugs they don't have tests for yet. I watch _My__Strange__Addiction_, you know."

"I don't eat drywall. I don't drink detergent. I'm not on drugs. I just…" he sighed and sunk back into the pillow in frustration. "I lost my balance doing a routine."

"Listen, Doc," Burt said in a low, threatening tone. "I know my kid. He doesn't do any of that stuff, period. I know I don't have any fancy degrees or nothin' like that, but I know when an otherwise healthy seventeen-year-old collapses and loses consciousness for as long as he did, well…it's for a reason. I don't care what you have to do. Do your damn job and find out what that reason is."

"That's my intention sir," Dr. Cruz replied hastily.


	3. Divided

Blaine couldn't remember when they brought Annie home. He told people he did, because he'd heard the story so many times that it was almost a memory. _"__It__was__a__cold,__wintry__day,__"_ he would say. _"__We__were__worried__they__weren__'__t__going__to__come__home__from__the__hospital__because__the__roads__were__so__bad__…"_ Truthfully, though, the only things Blaine remembered from when he was three were being terrified of the Evil Queen in _Snow__White_, cutting his lip on the kitchen table so much he had to get stitches (and chewing the stitches out and having to get them again) and being ring-bearer at Aunt Jenny's wedding.

But he remembered the first time he knew Annie wasn't….right like it was yesterday.

_They were at a cousin's birthday party, and it was time for the birthday boy to open his presents, but Annie was nowhere to be found. His mother panicked, and Blaine normally didn't worry because Annie had often wandered off on her own. _

_They'd found her in the basement._

_There was an old rug._

_All the tassels had been meticulously straightened except for the last few inches of the far corner. _

"_Annie, come on sweetie!" her mother coaxed. "Let's go back to the party! Cole's about to open his presents!"_

"_No, Mommy, I'm not done."_

"_Not done?" His mother entered the room and was about to pick her up…._

_Then Annie screamed. It was a blood-curdling kind of scream that made Blaine's blood run cold._

"_NOT DONE! NOT DONE! NOT DONE!"_

"_Annie you can go back to playing later, okay?"_

"_YOU MESSED IT UP! YOU MESSED IT UP! YOU MESSED IT UP!"_

_His mother was crying by now and everyone was running to see what the commotion was about._

"_I'm sorry I messed it up, sweetheart," she said over and over again, smoothing Annie's hair. "I'll help you fix it. Just calm down, okay?"_

_But Annie wouldn't stop crying, and his mother couldn't either, which only made Annie sob harder._

_Blaine stood at the top of the basement stairs, unsure of what to do or how to help while everyone else could do nothing but watch. _

_Blaine shut the door swiftly and turned to the crowed gathered behind him._

"_Does your mom need help, Blaine?" his Aunt Cindy asked. "Is everything okay?"_

"_Yes," Blaine said, but Aunt Cindy was knocking on the door anyway._

"_Susan, you need help down there?"_

_The tantrum (or meltdown as Blaine would learn to call them later) would last for another two hours, and that was the last family function Annie ever attended._

It had been nearly ten years, and he loved Annie fiercely. Any other time, he would go to the ends of the earth for her if she needed him, but right then?

God, why did it have to be now?

He pulled out of the parking lot and first headed for his neighborhood.

It was getting late, and nippy out, and Blaine hoped she had at least a coat or his mother would have a fit when he brought her home.

The park was empty. Once, he found her in the playground at St. Andrew's. She had to count all the chains in the swings.

She wasn't there.

Another time, he found her counting the cracks in a piece of sidewalk that was in bad need of repairs. He'd sat there for hours with her because she'd lost her place. Twice.

He knew she was in no immediate danger. He knew she'd probably be okay at the end of the day. He felt like a horrible person, but he was more than half-tempted to just…leave her there, to let her stay wherever she was, happy as a clam, because Kurt…

He didn't know if Kurt was going to be okay or not, and that terrified him more than anything.

He turned down his street and still no sign of Annie, but when he approached the Hutchinson's yard a few houses down from his own, light reflected from the chrome on Annie's prized bike.

She loved that bike.

She also knew that the Hutchinson's had the coolest tree house in the neighborhood. Mr. Hutchinson even rigged it so it had plumbing. The Hutchinson kids were kind of weird, but Blaine knew Annie liked to play over there for the tree house and the tree house alone.

"Annie?" Blaine called out. The Hutchinsons weren't there, so he let himself in their gate.

"I'm busy, Bubba," Annie called down.

"Mom's worried sick. You really need to come out of there and let me take you home."

With any luck he could be back at the hospital in fifteen minutes. Still, he decided to climb up the ladder to the tree house.

"I'm not a little kid anymore," she huffed. "I've got my bike. I can get myself home."

"Yeah, well, the Hutchinson's are going to be mad if they come home and find you up here. And Mom's going to ground you again."

"And that's a threat because I've got such a jam-packed social calendar," Annie retorted. It was dark, but Blaine could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "We can't all be perfect, you know. One of us had to be the fuck-up."

"You know mom hates it when you use that kind of language," Blaine said.

"Yeah, well, Mom's not here, is she?"

"_I_hate it when you use that kind of language," he amended.

He went over to the sink and turned the water off.

"I really don't have time for this tonight, Annie. Do you have any idea what Mom called me away from?"

"What, another make-out session with your boyfriend? Like _that__'__s_ a rare occasion."

"For your information, Annie, I was at the hospital and Kurt…" he sucked in a deep breath and turned off the faucet, which creaked with the effort.

He grabbed her hand and she screamed.

He looked down at her hands and that's when he realized they were raw and blistered.

He looked around, tore off one of the ancient, faded curtains and ripped it in two, wrapped each around her wrist and dragged her by the arm.

"You're calling the Hutchinson's when we get home and explaining what happened to the tree house."

The ride was silent until he shut the engine off when he pulled into their driveway.

"Hey Blaine?" she said, not looking him in the eye. "Sorry about Kurt. Hope he's okay. I'll tell Mom what happened if you want to go back to the hospital. I can get the bike out of the trunk tomorrow morning."

"Hey, you," Blaine said with a nervous smile. Kurt kind of hated the way Blaine was looking at him right then, like Blaine was afraid he'd break if he blinked for even a second. Kurt really couldn't think of anything to say so he remained silent, and Blaine, for his part, looked like he wanted to start a sentence a couple of times, but for whatever reason, couldn't follow through.

"You okay?" Kurt asked.

"_You__'__re_ the one in the hospital bed and you're asking me if…" he laughed humorlessly and shook his head. "I'm fine. You just…when you fell, you weren't moving, weren't responding to our voices at all, and..." he swallowed. "I just…" he sucked in a deep breath. "It really scared me."

"Finn said you had to leave," Kurt said, scooting up in the bed.

"Oh. That," Blaine answered. "Annie emergency."

Kurt nodded in understanding, because that has always been Blaine's reason if he had to cancel something, and Kurt really did understand. Family was important.

Kurt took his hand (the one that wasn't hooked up to the IV), and it was awkward because he had to reach over with the hand that was farthest from Blaine, but there were elements of that dream he had that was still echoing in his head.

"Where are your parents?" Blaine asked, but Kurt didn't answer right away.

"…_He__'__s__not__really__your__boyfriend,__"_ his mother's voice echoed in his ears. "_Dr.__Sylvester__thinks__you__'__ve__built__this__whole__world__up__in__your__head__as__some__kind__of__…__coping__mechanism.__"_

"Kurt?"

"Oh. Carole demanded they get dinner somewhere and they'll be back soon. So is everything okay?" When Blaine shot him a questioning look, he added: "I mean, with Annie?"

"Oh yeah, everything's fine. I can't say the same for the Hutchinson's tree house décor, however, but all things considered, I'd say it ended well. You, though. I was so worried…"

"If I have any leftover fabric from my Halloween costume, maybe we can replace the curtains."

"The curtains are kind of the least of my concerns right now," Blaine said with a pointed look.

"They just want to keep me here overnight for some fluids and observation. That's all. And to run some tests. I'll be home tomorrow good as new. And then you can come over after school and we can catch up on _Real__Housewives_ and you can help me make my Halloween costume."

"So what do they think is wrong?" Blaine asked, sitting on the bed.

Kurt shrugged. "That's what the tests are for. They haven't found anything yet."

"That's…unsettling," Blaine said, unable to keep the tremble out of his voice.

"Hey, come here," Kurt whispered, patting the space on the pillow next to him. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Your family's going to be back soon," Blaine tried to protest, discovering that the bed wasn't exactly an easy fit for the two of them, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

"I realize it's ridiculous since I've been out like a light most of the day, but I'm actually kind of tired."

"I should go…let you rest," Blaine said, and tried to get up, but Kurt just tugged on his wrist.

"Stay?"

How could Blaine refuse?

"You're awake," a familiar voice said next to him.

Kurt opened his eyes.

Finn was peering at him. When did Blaine leave? When did Finn get here.

"You might wanna go back to sleep, dude. They can't do shit to you while you're asleep. I mean, they can, but at least you don't know about it, you know?"

"The doctors are just trying to help."

"That's what they want you to believe. That's the line they feed you to make you sit still and let them poke and prod and probe your ass. But you, like, probably like that…"

"Finn, what the hell?"

"I saw the way you look at the intern kid. You'd have to be you know…a veggie like that Abrams kid not to notice. But just a tip, dude…you might not wanna make it so obvious with Them. They could use it against you, you know?"

"I'll keep that in mind. Now will you please leave me alone?"

"Oh would that I could, but this place is for crazy people, and They seem to be under the impression that I belong here."

"I'm not crazy."

"You keep tellin' yourself that. I'm heading to the cafeteria. It's Sloppy-Joe day."

"I'm a vegetarian," Kurt replied, hoping that he'd wake up again back in the hospital bed any minute.

"Probably better that you are. That way they can't poison you. Easily, anyway. I'd better hurry before all the red jell-o's gone."

With that, he was alone, and Kurt was grateful, but more than anything, he wanted his old reality back.

Maybe if he clicked his heels three times., he could go home.


End file.
